


Oh

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Houston Knights
Genre: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-13
Updated: 2005-07-13
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Notes: This one would be in the way of apology kinda thingie - another to follow, in another fandom - well... two fandoms.BTW, piccies of Joe and Levon have now been added to the files section of the SSSl site, just in case you're interested. Summary: See title





	1. Oh No!

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Joe LaFiamma rolled over. Groaned.

 

//Saints preserve me// He thought to himself. // What in the name of all I hold holy have I done to myself?//

 

His head throbbed. He winced and adjusted his position, searching for relief. That only caused his stomach to lurch threateningly.

 

//I must be dead. Gotta be. *No One* could possibly feel this awful and be alive//

 

Then... A body - a warm body - moved. Wriggled closer and settled around the curve of him, spooning up to fit closely - *way* too closely - to his backside. Snorted in his ear. Sighed. Grunted.

 

Fuzzily, Joe realized that said body was male. No doubt about that. The snort, the grunt, not to mention the chin - the chin that sported the unmistakable rasp an early-morning (late-night?) growth of stubble - were male.

 

As was the hard cock nestled between his asscheeks.

 

Decidedly male.

 

Damn.

 

Double damn.

 

If only he could open his eyes. One eye, even. A protest. He *had* to protest this situation! And, he would. Just as soon as he recovered from... whatever the hell was wrong with him.

 

Sighing deeply, he yawned mightily and drifted back into sleep.

 

***

 

Some hours later, Joe reluctantly woke. Remembered the sick, twisted dream he'd experienced earlier. Conjured, he had no doubt, by his unconscious mind, just to punish him for the all-out drinking binge he'd apparently indulged in last night.

 

Eyes closed tightly against the sunlight pouring through the window he hoped against hope for the blessed relief of more sleep.

 

"Damn!" came the (not) duculet - and uncomfortably familiar - voice of his partner, one Levon Lundy.

 

*Shift*

 

*Shuffle*

 

*Pained groan*

 

"Fuck!"

 

Joe would have winced at the blue language if he wasn't absolutely sure that a bolting pain through his throbbing head wouldn't result. Instead, he pulled the covers over his head, hoping that Levon would take a hint for once in his sorry life. Speaking - rather, thinking - of Levon... What in holy *hell* was Lundy doing in his bed?

 

Unable to gather enough strength to pose that particular question - or any other - Joe could only hope that this once, the damned irritating cowboy would take pity on him. Would see his pain. Be silent and still. For *once*.

 

Wasn't too much to hope for. Was it?

 

"Ooooh," Levon moaned. "Oh nooo! What in blue blazes are you doin' in mah bed, boy?" Then: "Shitfuckdamn! 'M dyin' This here be *your fault*, LaFamma."

 

*HIS* fault?

 

Levon's bed?

 

Cautiously, Joe opened one eye. Viewed his surroundings. Heard the impatient whinny of Levon's horse, Twister, demanding her breakfast.

 

No. NonononononoNO!

 

Okay, time for some damage control. "How the *hell* do you figure it was my idea?"

 

Levon snorted. "Your birthday. Your idea. 'C'mon, partner,' ya said. 'A quick one,' ya said. 'In honor of my 34th.'"

 

Hell's bells.

 

"The second," he hazarded a guess, "was your idea, Lundy."

 

"Fuck you, LaFamma."

 

Suddenly, as Levon's words sunk in, a horrific thought occurred to Joe.

 

They couldn't have... Could they?

 

"Levon?"

 

"*What?*"

 

*Snicker*

 

*Loooong pause*

 

Death, Joe realized, just might be preferable to... this uncertainty. To Levon's smugly superior attitude. To the fact that his partner - the bastard - obviously remembered everything. And, just as obviously, had absolutely no intention of sharing his knowledge.

 

He was in hell, after all. And Levon was the devil.

 

Once upon a time, someone, somewhere, had mentioned that Bora Bora was lovely this time of year...


	2. Uh Oh!

Levon smirked. Evilly. The satisfaction of having the upper hand was so... so golderned satisfying! It almost - *ALMOST* - made up for the hangover from which he now suffered.

 

Joe shifted, then groaned.

 

//Y'all gone and done it to you'rnself this time, ain'cha?//

 

*Chuckle*

 

With a mighty effort, Levon tried to find a little guilt within hisself. Gave it one hell of an effort. T'weren't there. No matter how hard he searched, there was *NO* pity in him for Joe's obvious distress.

 

Nary a speck.

 

All he could do was smirk.

 

Taking a deep, fortifying, breath, Lundy cautiously, laboriously, and *VERY* slowly, moved to the edge of his bed. He gingerly gained his feet, then tippy-toed into the bathroom. A shower - a nice, long, warm shower - followed by asp'rin (Lots and lots of all) - jest might make survival a possibility.

 

***

 

Self preservation bein' the better part of valor, Lundy kept hiz bleary gaze firmly fixed on the (silent) television when hiz pardner stumbled outa the bedroom and paused at the doorway to the living room. Hiz peripheral vision, however, noted Joe's attire - such as it was. Boxers - *black, silky boxers*. Levon's ratty old robe - hanging loosely from broad shoulders. The SOB hadn't even bothered to cinch the dern thing closed!

 

Gawd a'mighty! How wuz a man supposed to resist such a sight?

 

Very carefully, and with great deliberation, Levon lifted hiz (3rd, and counting) cup of caffeine, taking a deep swallow. "Coffee-n-asp'rin are on the kitchen counter," he offered, waving vaguely in that direction.

 

Joe grunted an answer, then - delicately - walked to the kitchen. The sounds of several pain killers bein' shaken outa the bottle, a glass //A *glass* // of tapwater bein' filled ///*TAPWATER?// reached Levon's ears, each causing hiz aching head to protest.

 

He chose to not picture hiz pardner - hiz half-naked pardner - moving around in *hiz* kitchen.

 

A chair screeched across the linoleum floor, followed by the rustle of Joe sittin' down. Another, even louder screech, sounded as the chair wuz pulled closer to the table.

 

Gritting hiz teeth and wincing, Levon somehow managed to swallow hiz pained groan.

 

Blessed silence reigned for several minutes as Joe drank hiz coffee. Then: "Levon?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"What happened last night?"

 

A smile of unholy glee crossed the Texas's face. "Ya made a fool of y'self, LaFiamma," he took great pleasure in saying.

 

"And...?"

 

"And *WHAT?*"

 

"Leeevonnn..."

 

"Whatcha wantin' ta know, boy?"

 

*Pause*

 

"How did I ... ummmm ... We ... You ... I ... Levon, *PLEASE* tell me that we didn't-"

 

Levon snickered. "Do the deed?" he finished helpfully.

 

"We *COULDN'T* have! I'm not ... I mean, I don't ... I've never-"

 

Deciding to have mercy on hiz pardner, Levon answered, "Nope. Nothin' happened. I wuz a gentleman. No matter," he teased, "how purty you begged, I controlled m'self."

 

"Begged?" Joe croaked in disbelief.

 

"Mmmmhmmm. *BEGGED*."

 

*Longer pause *

 

"Wait a minute! Hold on just a minute!"

 

Levon could practically hear the wheels grindin' away as Joe thought.

 

"Are you ... are you telling me that you're-"

 

"I'm gay, pardner."

 

*Heavy swallow*

 

"And you ... you want ... *ME*?"

 

"Sure do," Levon confirmed cheerily.

 

"Oh. Ummm ... I ..."

 

*Thunk* went the sound of Joe's head as it hit the table.

 

"Uh oh," he muttered.

 

Levon just smiled. The boy was SO his now.


	3. Oh God! or Oh Shit!

Joe wondered if it were possible to die of embarrassment. He pondered the question soberly, then decided that, hell yes, indeed it was possible. More than likely, in his case probable, not to mention desirable. Imminent, in actual fact. Therefore, he sipped his coffee and waited patiently for the Angel of Death to come on down and collect him.

 

Finished the last sip of his now-cold coffee. And waited.

 

And waited.

 

Finally, since there were no signs of his being immediately delivered from this humiliating situation, Joe decided that he needed a shower. And more sleep. Might as well be clean and well-rested when he met his maker.

 

Mercifully, Lundy appeared to be soundly asleep on the couch when Joe moved very quietly through the living room.

 

Once showered and dried off, Joe looked askance at the clothes he'd been wearing since yesterday. After a brief internal debate, he wrapped a towel securely around his waist and went back into the bedroom. Of course, the odds against his scrawny partner actually owning anything that might fit Joe's broader frame were astronomical (the little bastard *always* wore indecently tight clothing), Joe shrugged and climbed naked into the bed, snuggled up under the blankets, pulled the pillow Lundy'd used last night over his aching head, and quickly fell asleep.

 

***

 

When he woke, some hours later, Joe was more that a little befuddled. Where the hell was he? Blearily, he stared at the wallpaper before him. It looked familiar. Very familiar. His eyes widened as recognition set in.

 

Levon's house. Levon's bedroom... Levon's *bed*.

 

And, just like that, memories of his earlier awakening slammed into him, running through his brain with frightening clarity. Levon had said... hinted... No, not hinted, Joe admitted to himself reluctantly. Levon had straight out said it - the cowboy was gay. Was interested in him. Even worse, Levon knew.

 

Knew that Joe returned that interest. That Joe had entertained thoughts of his partner in *that* way.

 

Oh shit.

 

Dear *GOD*. What *had* he done last night?

 

A heavy weight shifted behind him and quiet rumblings reached his ears. Somehow, Joe managed to restrain the nearly overwhelming instinct to leap from the bed and run as far and as fast as possible. He lay perfectly still. holding his breath and praying to every saint he'd ever heard of that Levon would continue to sleep.

 

It worked. *Someone* up there was listening. Levon's breathing resumed its slow, steady cadence. Deep inhalations were followed by heavy exhalations, accompanied by a little 'pffft' sound as each breath made its way past Levon's lips.

 

Ever so carefully, Joe turned to his other side, rolling and shifting as quietly as possible so as not to waken his sleeping partner. Silently, he lay there and studied Levon.

 

Asleep, the cares and strains of day to day life faded from the Texan's face. He looked younger, almost innocent with his rumpled hair and sleep-swollen lips, the tight lines of stress of stress around eyes and mouth erased in repose.

 

"Mmmm," Levon hummed in apparent approval. "Yeah, Joey, 's good." The words were slurred, mumbled, the product of what must be a very enjoyable dream.

 

In fact, Levon appeared to be enjoying his dream one whole hell of a *lot* judging by the erection so lovingly outlined by the sheet that lay loosely across Levon's lower body.

 

Joe swallowed dryly.

 

Oh, God.

 

Accompanied by a husky moan, one of Levon's hands migrated up from the mattress to cup his erection. Narrow hips languidly thrust up into that hold, a soft whimper sounding at each upward movement.

 

Mesmerized by the sight, Joe could no more turn away from the vision before him than he could fly to the moon. His breath labored heavy in his chest and his color heightened as Levon's movements became more and more urgent.

 

Seemingly of its own volition, Joe's hand moved until somehow it found its way to his groin and he gripped his straining cock. He was hard, harder than he'd ever been in his life. It was so good it hurt. In the best possible way, of course. He was leaking precome and his balls had tightened, risen, were taut against the base of his erection.

 

With a harsh groan, Levon's hips moved erratically. His head tossed restlessly against the pillow and his lips parted as he gulped audibly for air. Then, suddenly, Lundy arched up, every muscle straining, a soft sheen of sweat making his skin glow, and came with a long, low growl.

 

Eyes closed, Joe's teeth clamped painfully on his lower lip. His breathing stuttered, light sparkled at the edge of his mind, and his orgasm rolled through him with all the finesse of a freight train. He emptied himself with a series of pulses, so strong that they threatened to send him spiraling into unconsciousness.

 

Once his lungs stopped heaving for air and his heartbeat stabilized. Oh God! OhGodOhGodOhGod. That was... that had been...

 

Damn.

 

Joe's eyelids slowly rose. He blinked heavily. Looked at Levon. Couldn't even pretend to himself that he was surprised to find soft brown eyes staring at his face.

 

"Wuz it good fer you, Pardner?"

 

Oh *shit*!

 

Busted.

 

Joe groaned and pulled the sheet over his head.


End file.
